


Inferno

by FrostySquid



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, GrimmIchi - Freeform, M/M, man love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostySquid/pseuds/FrostySquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo is sent behind bars, all alone in a new environment... Just the way he likes it. He doesn't notice the pair of bright cyan eyes watching his every move.<br/>GrimmIchi. Mansex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

White walls. That's all there was. Four white walls, white tiled floor, a bed. He couldn't move, the restraining straight jacket locking his arms to his side. The flat light above him flickered, casting flitting shadows across the walls. Jumping shadows, leaping in mocking dances aimed at his own unmoving shade.

He couldn't remember what he'd done. Only the blinding rage, the stifling fire that had pulsed through his veins. The glassy eyes were the only thing he could recall. Sweet, innocent eyes lost. Bruises across pale flesh, blood over skin, tangled hair, twisted clothing.

Then there was the crunching beneath his hands, the gush of blood flowing over his knuckles. Yet, nothing came into his vision besides that maimed and broken body. Blood fell from her skin, telling her story against the asphalt. Telling the tale of her years, the tale of her abuse in the alley. He had frozen, his eyes drifting down the secluded way before falling on the limp form. Golden brown hair, splayed into a crown against the unforgiving road. Laughing voices around her, mocking her last cries and pleas. His blood had turned to fire, hot exploding fire. His fists needed no guide, his feet were wings.

Then they were all gone, their eyes as lifeless as the desolate form cradled by stone. Red strokes of blood streaked the nearby walls, painting desperation as a last act. He hadn't seen them, heard their screams. He didn't know of the looks in their eyes when they died, all he could see was the glassy eyes staring out away from the carnage.

He fell to his knees, bringing her frail, delicate body to his chest. That's when the wave of crimson bloodlust fell away, the heat driving him turning to ice. He slumped, trying to prevent her body from becoming completely cold. To hold that last bit of warmth she had always held. The light in her eyes, the spring in her step, the sweet smiles that were unreserved. He turned his head up to the stars, seeing their twinkling faces mocking down on him.

He hadn't said a word, only stared up at the heavens. The stars laughing at him, telling him his fate. Reminding him that he was too late, no mercy in the fate written across the onyx blanket. Only the cold of reality across the Cheshire grin and cold cruel sparks.

No, he couldn't have spoke. Instead he let his tears do the job for him, the rolling streams spelling his misery. They weren't many, just a few crystals against his warm skin. They twinkled in the dull light, copying the stars. Slowly, they rolled from his cheeks. Falling gently down, down onto hers. Hers that held no warmth, no bright glow.

Under the glowing pinpricks of light and the harshly compared darkness of shadows, the ring of sirens and the blinking of stars mocked him.

And Ichigo cried.

The door opened, the metal silent under newly greased hinges. Ichigo looked up, too exhausted to speak to the uniformed officer filling the doorway.

"Kurosaki, your sentence has been decided. Two life sentences, for the brutal murders of six men." He said, pulling Ichigo roughly to his feet. Ichigo didn't complain, didn't talk, didn't make a noise. No, finally he felt some sense of calm in his life. Everything he had was taken from him. His family, his life. Nothing was left in the outside world. No bright smiles left for him, or home cooked meals.

"You're being moved into Las Noches Prison." The voice rang out through the room. Surprisingly, Ichigo grinned. A sardonic, spiteful turning that lit his features in malicious glee.

Maybe prison wouldn't be so bad, after all, what could he lose at this point?

The garb was scratchy, stiff cotton fighting against his muscles. It was irritating, the neon orange jumpsuit that matched his hair perfectly. Ichigo sighed, already anticipating the jeering the color would attract. A horrible thought struck Ichigo's mind. Would prison possibly be like high school all over again? He swore under his breath, it would suck to live the rest of his life between bars with people staring at his hair as if he were a zoo animal.

Two men were on either side of him, carefully removing the straight jacket as they lifted the uniform over his hips.

"I feel bad for you, kid. Hope your crime was worth it, because with these thin hips, you'll be dead within the day." One officer said, smacking Ichigo's ass. Ichigo didn't courtesy the gesture with any movement, letting the orange suit slide up his torso and the cuffs coil around his wrists.

"Why's that?" The second officer asked, pulling Ichigo forward.

"Damn new officers these days," the first scoffed. "This is Los Noches, not daycare. He'll be raped with in the hour, especially with his flashy looks. And hot ass, he's a looker."

The doors opened, revealing a wide open space. Stairs led up to the cells that lined the walls on the second floor, tables and chairs against the tiles set into the ground. Faces barely glanced at him as they passed, a few catcalls ringing from the crowd. That's when Ichigo noticed why, there were three other inmates with him. All shaking in their boots at the prisoners glaring faces. Ichigo laughed out loud, a short bark of a sound. These cowards were going to pay for their fears, the inmates would make sure of that. Surprisingly, Ichigo felt none of that stifling fear. Only the calm aptitude that seemed to clutch onto him as the situations changed. Even with his neon hair, the weaker prey would be the ones to go first. Ichigo was no weakling, he'd never be one.

Standing on the second level, thick boots against metal grates. Cyan eyes peered at the slosh of neon hair below him. A grin over took his face, white teeth gleaming in delight.

"Tough guy? Ain't he," his voice smoothed over the air in a cocktail of silk and baritone. "We ought to fix that right up." He turned from the railing, going back to the business he had.


	2. Chapter Two

Ichigo was isolated from the other prisoners, always accompanied by the two officers with metal encircled around his wrists. Why? Because of the flimsy paper title around his wrist, the one that promised flying rages and shredded blood. Thin letters falling in perfect letters across the white, ink, slightly faded from the few days and many showers.

Mentally unstable.

After killing six full grown men with his bare hands, they apparently didn't trust those tainted fingers to run free through their prisons. Ichigo didn't mind, if he wanted out of the cuffs he'd get them off. It was pointless to try at this point, not with the officers behind him. Guns loaded with sedative and stiff uniforms. No, Ichigo wouldn't try anything. Not yet, not with cold metal pressed against his back.

The day finally came, the keys jangling as Ichigo familiar guards explained he was off of individual surveillance.

Ichigo stepped out of his room, his hands still cuffed in front of him still. No guards at his back. It felt good, the freedom of eyes even of his hands were still restrained. That was until he felt the eyes.

Hundreds of eyes all staring at him, mocking him. He looked back steadily at the glaring, malicious eyes.

Ichigo understood. He wasn't dumb. His inmates had seen his special treatment as spoiling. His own personal guards against the harsh, cruelty of the prison inmates. He scoffed, they hadn't known they'd been there to protect the inmates. Not him, he'd never needed protecting.

"Hey! The princess is out of her tower!" A voice rang out, jeering. More cat calls screamed through the room. Ichigo snickered, they were all idiots.

He confidently walked to the front of the cafeteria area, balancing his tray of his cuffed hands and finding an empty table. Instantly, someone slid into the seat next to him.

"Hey. I'm Rick, we should stick together you know? The weak need to stay together." Rick said, rubbing his hands nervously. Ichigo glanced over at him, laughing a little. His face was covered in bruises, and his limbs were obviously sore. He had it rough in the prison, that was for sure.

"It's a small freedom that humans have the right to walk where ever they please." Ichigo said, taking a bite of the cardboard flavored grub.

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Rick asked, confusion drawing over his features.

"You can follow me if you want to. That simple enough?" Ichigo snarled, his appetite taking over his usual patience.

"Plain and clear," Rick said, his eyes falling to the band around Ichigo's wrist. Mentally unstable. His eye brows rose as he subtle shifted away from the orangette.

Ichigo almost laughed, smiling lightly as he scooped more food into his mouth. The food disappeared, vanishing into Ichigo's mouth.

He stood, Rick scrambling up to follow him.

"Hey you! Where you going?" He asked in a panic.

"Showers." Ichigo said.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. There are no guards there, you'll be raped." Rick said. "Just get a cup of water from the front and use it for a sponge bath. You'd never make it in the showers, you're too tiny."

Ichigo looked over at Rick, unrestrained glee in his eyes. Dark fire burned through the usually brown orbs, insane burning fire. Rick shivered, chills running down his back at the sight of the grin crawling up Ichigo's face. Flashes of white teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp and dangerous. Abruptly, Rick turned away. He walked as quickly as possible back to his cell. Something was off with the orangette, and he didn't want anything to do with it.

Ichigo laughed out loud, cackling. He walked to the showers, the lust of blood rising with in him. His muscles ached for movement, to be set free upon flesh. To tear, rip, and bite the flesh revealed to him.

Before he knew it, he was at the showers opening. Huge, hulking men inside the room, covered by hot steam.

"Hey, you." Ichigo paused at the inquiry. An officer stood before him, gesturing him closer. He unlocked the cuffs around Ichigo's wrists.

"They say you have free access to all the rooms, but have to stay in handcuffs. Trust me kid, you don't want to walk in there. Especially with only handcuffs." Ichigo ignored his warnings, slipping his jumpsuit off his thin, lean frame. Ichigo would be the first to admit his features weren't exactly masculine. He had thin hips, sides that curved and delicate limbs. Small hands with long thin fingers. What he'd also readily admit was the fact that not many people noticed the callouses on his knuckles and hard, defined muscles that lined his arms and torso. Every muscle showing under his tanned skin.

The officer sighed, putting the cuffs back on Ichigo wrists.

"No officer goes in there, just saying. Nobody's gonna come to your rescue." The officer said over his shoulder, walking away. What he didn't see was the wide grin spreading over Ichigo face, hidden by neon orange locks. Not a moment of hesitation passed him as he walked into the showers.

Warm, wet tiles under his feet, the heavy steam condensing against his skin. Whistles echoed in the confined space, leering eyes drifting over his figure. A crawling sensation shiver through Ichigo at the feel of ill intent that raged around him. His fingers twitched. He wanted to pound into their flesh, feel the flesh give out under his fists as they screamed. He wanted it, he wanted it, he wanted. A rough hand touched his shoulder, yanking him backwards as a voice rasped in his ear. Ichigo didn't hear the words that he said, he looked up at the mans face. His head tilting to the side, a grin spreading over his face. A mad smile, borderline insane. The man holding his shoulder's stomach fell, instantly knowing he'd made a mistake. Ichigo's amber eyes told him that, and the promise of spilt blood inside them.

xXx

"Grimmjow, wake up!" A hand shook his shoulder. "You're princess is out!" Grimmjow jerked awake at that, glaring at the face above his, long black hair framing his face.

"Get off, bastard." Grimmjow snarled, throwing the taller body away from his. Nniotra slammed his head on the upper bunk, groaning at the sudden pain.

"Now, what happened?" Grimmjow growled, rubbing his temples.

"That little princess you had your eye on got off the watch. He just slipped into the showers." Grimmjow leapt to his feet, pulling on an orange jump suit.

"The fuck! He's an idiot, isn't he?" He snarled, storming out of the cell. "I haven't had him yet, we can't have him dead already can we?" Rage carrier his feet down the stairs, other inmates steering away from the blue haired man. Nnoitra trailed behind him, slightly hesitant. He didn't want to be the one Grimmjow took out his rage on.

"Hey, think of the bright side. At least he'll be in your debt right? I can't see a better way to get him under you and moaning." Nnoitra said, laughing slightly. Grimmjow returned a grin.

"Guess you're right about that." He chuckled, pushing past the officer that stood at the hallway leading to shower rooms. They shared a short nod, before they spotted shower spray arcing from the closest doorway.

Grimmjow slid into the tiled room, raising his fist before freezing. Only one man stood in the blood slicked showers. Pink drooled from the unconscious men on the floor, diluted by the spraying water. In the middle of broken bodies and blood tinted tiles was a lone figure. Hot spray sluiced down his soft, curved features. Diving away from the firm muscles along his chest and stomach. A red mark across his ribs showed the bruising to come, a tiny cut underneath his eye promised of the story of pounding fists. Then there was the blood across his bare skin, slowly dripping off under the showers light spray. First crimson, then a dull red, lastly fading to a pink and disappearing.

Grimmjow's fist dropped, his roar of glee dyin in his throat. He stared at the person standing in front of him. He was dimly aware of Nnoitra behind him, his gasp of surprise at the scene. Grimmjow's sight was stolen by the smooth tanned skin, the darkened orange locks. Chin tilted back as water streamed through his hair, only to stream down his back. His eyes were half lidded, but it did nothing to hide the fury of emotions within them. Cruel, fiery rage. Unrestrained bloodlust, the pleasure of straining muscles. All resting within amber orbs, half lidded shining eyes. His head tilted to the side, his hands rising to his hair as he stared at the two visitors. A cuff was attached to one of his wrists, the other end hanging loose. No words passed between the two as they stared each other down.

The silence screamed, charged with electricity between the two.

"Grimmjow." The blue haired man said, looking at the orangette at the eyes.

"Ichigo," the shower shut off, leaving the room even more empty of sound. He brushed past the two, reattaching the hanging cuff to his hand. Then he was gone, leaving Grimmjow and Nnoitra alone with three unconscious bodies on the soaked tile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure that I spelled Nnoitra's name wrong.... but whatever. I'll fix it later.... Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

The cat calls and nicknames ended quickly and abruptly. All when a scum bag decided to sit by Ichigo and purr lewd suggestions into his ear. Instead of his words intentions, he got a broken nose and split lip. The room had fallen silent besides the groans of pain beside him. Ichigo didn't mind the chorus of pain to accompany his meal. After that tiny incident had commenced, not many people tried to make a move on Ichigo. The story of the brief and bloody fight in the showers had spread quickly, the wild fire raging through out the cells.

For the most part, Ichigo didn't mind the prison. He was alone, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Yet, sometimes, the call of blood rang too loud. He didn't resist the song, didn't fight against the rage pulsing throughout his veins. Flesh bruised, blood flowed, the sickening crunch of bones. It was the singing of his fists and the tumbling chorus of his blood. Even when the offenders managed to land a crushing blow against Ichigo, he didn't mind. If anything, he loved it even more. The taste of his own blood was even more exhilarating than his opponents. It was so sweet. The pain, the sweat, the bruises across his calloused knuckles. He loved the moments when assailants came searching for him, aching to sink their fists into his flesh.

It didn't take long for the entire prison to isolate him, avoid the slim figure like a curse. Only the bravest tried their luck against the fiery orangette. The showers emptied at his presence, he had no cell mate. The inmates put up to the job all bribing officers to be put elsewhere. All alone, just the way Ichigo liked it. He loved it. Only sly glances fell on him, whispers of rumors surrounding him.

He was the ghost of the prison, but also the main attraction. Eyes never looked at him, but he could feel himself in there sights. People never talked to him, but he could hear their thoughts whispering about him. They tried so hard to ignore the orangette's presence, yet he was always there. The fabled insane phantom of the prison.

Yet, beyond all the secreted glances, there was set of eyes that stared at him. Sky blue eyes confidently staring at him, trying to read him like a book. He hated them, hated the blue eyes that tried to hard to see him. He met them with his own, their gazes locking for minutes until the bluenette's glanced away. Leaving for some matter of business. It unnerved Ichigo. He had always been the shadow in the corner that nobody ever really saw, but those bright eyes instantly pinned him down.

Ichigo sighed, putting his fork down. He stretched for a moment, his cuffs having been removed weeks ago. The officers had deemed him ready for the normal levels of surveillance that other inmates received. The band around his wrist still remained, branding him. He could get it off if he chose to, but he never did. Why should he, it was the one thing that branded him different from the rest of the thugs jailed behind the bars. Some how, it reassured him, comforted him in the place behind bars. Those two words told the story of his life, two simple words. Mentally unstable. It was sad, really, but it was reality.

He walked from the table, going back up the stairs to his cell. He froze at the doorway, an unwelcome visitor inside. Breaching, intrusive. The simple act of him sitting on the bed above his own. Threatening. Ichigo visibly bristled, hackles raising in defense. He tilted his head down, long orange locks covering his eyes fury. Torrents of flames crushed through his body, raging through his limbs at the sight. He shivered, almost delicately compared to the fiery inferno inside him. He held his breath for a moment, not letting the licking flames take over his muscles and limbs. Slowly, he released the breath, inhaling another. The fiery rage inside him mellowed to embers, lifting his head Ichigo looked over at his visitor.

"Grimmjow," He said, meeting the others eyes with unbreakable confidence.

"You're a cold bastard, aren't you?" Grimmjow asked, eyes narrowing. Ichigo head tilted to the side, his eyes growing hard.

"Fan me and I only grow hotter, feed me and I only grow bigger, but give me a drink and I die. I shrivel up, disappearing into black stains across the tile." Ichigo said, his eyebrows raising at the bluenette in front of him.

Grimmjow's mouth fell open as he processed the words that poured from Ichigo's mouth.

"The hell are you talking about?" Grimmjow asked, his brow crumpling. Ichigo didn't reply, walking under Grimmjow's legs to lay on his own bed.

"What're you doing here?" Ichigo asked, letting the silence between them stew for a few moments.

"Didn't they tell you? I'm your new roommate, princess." Grimmjow said, his head hanging upside down to look at Ichigo's face. Ichigo didn't say anything, just stared at the bluenette's face as it slowly turned redder.

He had angular features, a sharp jaw and high cheek bones. A straight nose and gleaming teeth. Bold, playfully cruel eyes, they spoke of relentless teasing and harsh punishment. Contradictions.

Ichigo looked away, his gaze once again falling on the band around his wrist. Mentally unstable. His title in this house of prisoners.

"They don't leave you alone, do they?" Grimmjow inquired, leaping down from his perch on the bed. Ichigo's eyes traveled back to his face, staring down his blue eyes. He didn't speak, simply watching Grimmjow's next move.

"All the inmates. Someday, they'll get you. You'll get raped, killed even." Grimmjow said, grinning a little at his next thought. "I can fix that, come under my protection. There's only a small fee." Now his grin had taken over his face, Ichigo snickered at the face of glee.

"What would that be?" Ichigo asked, smirking back at the blue haired devil grinning down at him.

"Sex. Give me your sweet, tight ass and they'll never bother you again." Grimmjow said, leaning in closer.

Ichigo's grin widened, rage filling him. He had warned him, hadn't he? Fan him and he only grows hotter, feed him and he only grows. It didn't look like Grimmjow had any water within sight. So Ichigo grinned, his body sliding forward across the sheets. He faced Grimmjow's features, their noses almost brushing as Ichigo examined the man in front of him. Cotton candy blue, it seemed so strange compared to Grimmjow's attitude. Unfitting, from the tiny pieces Ichigo had seen. He could feel his blood boiling at the thought. He said only one word to the bluenette, and only after tilting his head down to cover his amber slitted eyes. Grimmjow never saw the orbs burning with heat and mirth.

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so... Someone asked why it said its complete while it's obviously not.... The answer to that question is I have no idea. Technology hates me and it won't cooperate so well. Bare with me, I'll figure it out sooner or later.


	4. Chapter 4

Grimmjow's world blurred as Ichigo pushed him down against the bed, straddling his waist.

"That's a good boy," Grimmjow purred, running his hands up Ichigo's thighs. Ichigo brought his hands up to the metal bed frame above them, pressing his thumbs against the firm surface. There were two small pops, his thumbs coming out of joint. He easily brought his hands through the cuffs, throwing the empty item by Grimmjow's head.

"Smart bitch, too." Grimmjow said, watching as Ichigo popped his thumbs back into place. Ichigo didn't speak, only smirked at Grimmjow. Ichigo leaned forward, his lips brushing against Grimmjow's ear. His tongue peeked out, brushing against the curve of Grimmjow's ear. Grimmjow's hands creeped up, molding themselves to the gently curve of Ichigo's ass.

"I hate people like you. I hate them." Ichigo whispered, nibbling gently on Grimmjow's earlobe.

"Why's that?" Grimmjow asked, smirking. Ichigo reached back, lacing their fingers together.

"Cause you're all the same, every single one of you." Ichigo breathed, leaning back to look into Grimmjow's eyes. He brought their hands above their heads, pressing their lips together.

"How so? How do you know that?" Grimmjow asked against Ichigo's lips. He opened his eyes, looking straight back at Ichigo. A crown of fire surrounded Ichigo's face, his tanned skin had somewhat faded since his stay in the cold prison. His amber eyes were covered with lashes, blocking them for view. His lips were glossy, an almost whiskey pink shade. Freckles spotted over the bridge of his nose, something Grimmjow had never noticed. Something that made Ichigo seem so much younger. His body was warm, his body light over Grimmjow's. He seemed so tiny, so delicate over his body. Like he could crush him with a single fist.

"Cause you all think I need to be protected." Ichigo whispered, his hooded eyes opening.

Contradiction. That was Ichigo. He was tiny, a whole head shorter than Grimmjow and a whole lot skinnier. Then there were his eyes. Those smoldering eyes, suddenly Grimmjow understood. Ichigo was in no way delicate, his eyes gleamed with fury. Hot tidal waves of fury pouring from his body.

Clink.

Cool metal surrounded Grimmjow's wrists. He looked up, away from Ichigo's ferocious eyes. Ichigo had slid the hand cuffs around Grimmjow's wrist, attaching the other to the metal bars of the headboard.

"H-Hey! What the hell?" Grimmjow asked, glaring up at Ichigo. Ichigo smirked, sliding off Grimmjow's lap.

"Sorry, I don't think the deal is possible." Ichigo snickered, running a hand through his hair. Grimmjow glared at him, stewing in anger. He'd been tricked, utterly fooled. The devil himself had risen from the pits of hell in the form of a beautiful princess. And Grimmjow had taken the bait and fallen into the layers of deceit. He glared at the halo of orange surrounding Ichigo's pretty face. Never trust a demon wearing a crown of fire, never ever. Grimmjow insulted the orangette, kicked at the sheets and screamed. Nothing brought the attention of the little demon to him. No rising head, no glancing eyes.

Grimmjow snarled, fury filled him. The message was loud and clear. He wasn't worth Ichigo's time, he didn't meet his expectations. He wasn't good enough. Grimmjow festered his anger, unable to move from his back on the bed. He hated the feeling, not being seen. Never meeting expectations, not good enough. Never good enough. He hated it.

He took several deep breaths, trying to calm the onslaught of swirling anger within in. What would appeal to Ichigo?

Grimmjow had no idea, from what he'd seen the man was somewhat whimsical. He did unexplainable things at random, talked in his little riddled sentences.

Then there was also that fiery temper. The maniacal grin that stretched across his face, blood splattered over his nose in place of the childish freckles.

Grimmjow's mind went over their every meeting. The unwavering first steps into the prison, the steam filled shower and graceful curves of his body, watching him on the cafeteria. The weight rooms. The basketball court. Anywhere. Then there most recent meeting, where they had actually talked for the first time. Besides the initial sharing of names.

Fan me and I only grow hotter, feed me and I only grow bigger, but give me a drink and I die. I shrivel up, disappearing into black stains across the tile.

Then there was his riddle. Grimmjow smirked, he had heard it a long time ago. Back when he was a child. It brought back old memories.

"Fire, you're fire." Grimmjow said, snickering at the old riddle. To Grimmjow's astonishment, Ichigo turned his head. Their eyes met, for once the orangette's lacking an element of burning fury.

Then he broke out into a wide grin, a blissfully happy smile that stretched over his face. It didn't hold the malicious quality of his previous grins. Only wide spread happiness, Grimmjow found himself grinning back. Anger forgotten.

"I think that we can be friends." Ichigo said, beaming. And for some reason, Grimmjow felt himself smiling too.

Ichigo pulled a bobby pin and safety pin from underneath his mattress, crawling over Grimmjow to the cuffs above his head. Grimmjow fell silent, his eyes drawn to the sight in front of him. The loose orange jump suit fell far from his collar, revealing strips of faded sun kissed skin. Ichigo shifted, moving the bobby pin into place then jabbing the end of the paper clip in at an angle. Grimmjow licked his lips as the collar dipped down even farther. A whiskey colored nipple slid into view, mockingly perk as it stared back at him.

Grimmjow was absolutely sure, Ichigo was a devil sent from hell to torment him. Straight from the deepest depths of fire and brimstone. Ichigo sat back, still straddling Grimmjow's waist, holding the now empty cuffs proudly. He hooked one on his own wrist, leaving the other side hanging still. He jumped off of Grimmjow's lap, gracefully crawling to the top bunk.

"Tell me about yourself, Ichigo." Grimmjow asked. Ichigo looked at him strangely.

"My name is Ichigo Kurosaki, I am twenty years old. I'm certified in CPR and have been sentenced for killing six men. I have brown eyes and stand at 5"11. My hair is naturally orange and I have no piercings or tattoos. I used to run track before being convicted as a murderer." Ichigo said, his voice dull as if he was reciting a memorized script.

"This isn't a job interview, you know." Grimmjow replied, spotting the tiny smirk on Ichigo's face that said he knew he was being difficult. "Lets make a deal, we play Rock Paper Scissors. If I win, you tell me all you remember from the day you were born until now. If you win, I'll do anything or say anything you want."

Ichigo cocked his head to the side, considering the possibilities.

"If I win, you have to shave all the hair on your body. Eye brows, pubic hair, even your eyelashes." Ichigo said, grinning widely.

Grimmjow groaned, how cruel. "Fine, deal." He brought his hands out in front of him, bringing a fist to the middle of his palm. He contemplated Ichigo for a moment. A more hasty person would choose rock, the security of their fist easing their conscious. A more manipulative person would choose paper, knowing a person was most likely to pick rock. The last choice would choose scissors, an unwise choice against those of more rash nature. Yet, safe against the over thinkers.

"Rock paper scissors!" They both called out, matching scissors falling in their palms.

"Again." Ichigo said "Best three out of five." Grimmjow nodded in agreement.

"Rock Paper Scissors!"

A rock laid in Grimmjow's hand, another scissors in Ichigo's.

"My win." Grimmjow smirked, smashing Ichigo's scissors.

"Damnit!" Ichigo growled, kicking Grimmjow's leg as therapy to his loss. Grimmjow scowled, raising his hands again for a new round.

"Rock Paper Scissors!" They called out. Paper appeared in Grimmjow's palm, a triplet of scissors against Ichigo's. Ichigo laughed maniacally as he sliced through Grimmjow's paper. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed, suspicions rising in him.

They went again, "Rock Paper Scissors!"

Grimmjow revealed a rock set into his palm, the never changing scissors in Ichigo's. Grimmjow almost laughed out loud. Ichigo always did scissors. The game resulted in a loss for Ichigo, his delicate scissors being smashed to bits. Yet, somehow, it matched the orangette. Beautiful steel shined to perfection, thin and delicate at first glance. Also, harshly sharp and tempered to elite hardness.

"My win, start telling your story." Grimmjow laughed, settling back on his bed. He patted the space next to him, Ichigo rolling his eyes as he settled down.

"Where should I start?" Ichigo asked, sighing as he leaned against the wall. For the first time, Ichigo actually seemed normal. No trace of riddles in his tone, or mocking atmosphere.

"Your parents, your first memories. Everything, anything." Grimmjow said. Ichigo's eyes grew far away, his hands fiddling with a string hanging from his sleeve.

"Sometimes, I wonder how I was born. Who gave me my orange hair, where this famous temper ignited from. I don't know, I'll probably never find out. I can't remember, I don't think I'd want to anyway. They'd ruin the memories of him, spoil the images running through my mind when I sleep. I don't want to lose them, they're all I have left. Memories." Ichigo breathed.

"Who was he?" Grimmjow asked, his whisper a ghost of a breath. Ichigo met his eyes. For a moment, Grimmjow thought he'd cry. Yet, he didn't. His eyes were a mist of an illusion. Fleeting emotions running through them at light speed. Sadness, valued memories, special moments.

"Zangetsu." Ichigo said, faraway by now. "His name was Zangetsu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fun.

**Author's Note:**

> This is posted on fan fic too, I'll slowly be posting it here along with my other works. I'm still figuring out this site, so cut me slack;)
> 
> Btw: In my world it doesn't take like twelve years to sentence someone. Authors privilege.


End file.
